The Brothers of Archenland
by Auburn Waves
Summary: After the death of King Lune, his two sons take some time to figure out what's truly important to them. Whilst Cor searches his heart for the answer to his emptiness, Corin searches the mountains for a reason to go on fighting.
1. After the Funeral

**So this is a quick story I'm going to be writing about Cor and Corin after their father's death. It's my second Narnia story, although probably a lot shorter than the other one, but I hope you all enjoy it :)**

 **After the Funeral**

Cor placed a hand over his heart and wept as he tried to read the eulogy in front of him. The paper shook in his trembling hands.

"King Lune was a good man. A kind man. The father I only met when I was well into my life."

Through steamy eyes, the heir to the throne peered at the assembled crowd. Their court robes ran in blurs of colour around their bodies and the meadow blended into their clothes, a wash of green life. Laying in front of him, an open coffin with the funeral mask of his late father staring at the sky as though Aslan himself were looking down from the clouds.

"We shall miss him dearly, but we cannot feel true sorrow, for he is gone to that land far over the seas in East: Aslan's land. May the lord watch over him, guide him in his new life and may Aslan bring peace and calmness upon us all."

There was a stifled round of sobs and the coffin bearers stepped forwards to take up the ropes on either side. Corin glanced down at his father one more time, holding back his tears. Then he closed the lid and the box was lowered into the ground.

"Goodbye father," whispered Cor, raking a handful of dirt from the dust cup and letting it pour through his fingers, onto the wooden coffin.

It pattered softly, like the rain, like his tears.

Corin stepped up next, repeating his brother's motion.

"Goodbye father," he said. "I'll always love you."

Cor placed a hand on his twin's shoulder and the younger boy turned to face him, their eyes like mirrors of sorrow, reflecting sadness back to each other eternally. Their eyes were identical and the same as their father's. Cor had to turn away.

They moved apart from the procession, to the quiet of the vast meadow. Flowers in purple and white hues, stroked their boots. Once or twice, Cor glanced back, watching as the wood of the coffin was slowly obscured by mud.

"Dust to dust," he said quietly.

Under his arm, his brother's body began to shake.

"He's really gone?'" said Corin, the words struggling out of his mouth.

"He's with Aslan," said Cor. "He's in a better place."

The two were silent for a moment. A few tears broke loose from Corin's eyes and ran down his cheeks. Cor stroked his brother's back, but didn't say anything. Sometimes silence was a better comfort than words.

"I feel so lost," said Corin, at last. "Why do we have to lose the people we love?"

Cor pulled his younger brother into a tight hug. Their clothes entwined and their heads rested together so that it was almost impossible to tell whose head was whose.

"We haven't lost him," said Cor quietly, trying to sound stronger than he felt. "He's waiting for us, just over the sea. You know that."

"But why?"

"What do you mean?" said Cor.

"Why does he have to die to go there? Why do we have to lose him? It's not fair," Corin's hand balled into a fist.

"We'll see him again," the older boy assured him.

"But that's a whole lifetime from now," said Corin. "I don't want to wait that long."

He pulled away from the hug and turned to leave.

"Wait," Cor grabbed his arm. "Where are you going?"

"I just need some time, brother," replied Corin, not looking his older brother in the eye. "I just need some time."

Cor watched his twin walk away across the green, heading away from the mourning crowd and into the woods. The boy had had a whole decade more with his father than Cor had had, but it wasn't enough. No amount of time was enough with the people that he loved. Why did it have to end like this?

He thought back to the day that he had found out who he really was. Shasta, a runaway from Calormen. A scruffy boy with two horses and runaway bride.

A hand touched his arm.

"How are you holding up?" said Aravis.

She was much different from who she had been back then. She was dressed sombrely, out of respect and her curly hair was draped over her shoulders. On her lower half, she wore her signature Calormene trousers. The years had changed her appearance somewhat and even her tan had faded, but she would never let go of her heritage completely.

"I'm alright," said Cor. "I think."

"And your brother?" the girl nodded to the line of trees where Corin's shape was just disappearing.

"I think he needs some time alone, to think about things."

They stared at the silent trees around the meadow, the reminder that life was all around, and vibrant, and beautiful, even after a death.

"I'm sorry," said Aravis. "About your father. He was good man. In some ways, he was like an uncle to me, allowing me to live in the castle with you both, as a semi-ward. There aren't many wealthy men who would allow a potential love interest for their children, of little social or monetary power into their house or take them in as a protegée."

"Potential love interest?" asked Cor, although he felt his cheeks redden slightly.

"I just mean a person of similar age," she said matter-of-factly. "Anyway, I owe your father more than I can say. I owe him more than my own father."

At those words, she bit her lip and turned to stare at the trees again.

"You're a good friend Aravis," said Cor, linking his arm with hers. She bristled slightly, but this was a funeral; now was a time for companionship. "You and Corin, both. If you two weren't here, I don't know what I would do."

He followed her gaze and watched a bird flitter out from one of the trees. A soft breeze rippled through the air, bringing warmth to the early springtime. The flowers at their feet seemed to whisper, letting their petals flow free. Colours danced in the air and swept between the funeral-crowd. A sign from Aslan.

But Corin wasn't there to see it.

 **I hope you all enjoyed it and if you like this story, have a look at my other Narnia one ' _The Calormene_** _**Revenge'.**_ **Don't forget to review :)**


	2. Lonely Souls

**Thanks to everyone who has come back to read more and thank you to those who favourited or followed :) Particular thanks to** _ **Sophia the Scribe**_ **for your review. It's good to know I'm on the right track. Anyway, I hope you all enjoying reading this :)**

 **Lonely Souls**

The rain came in droves, pattering against the glass panes of the castle. It was a sudden onslaught, as though the heavens had broken.

Cor stood on the stairway in silence. A servant passed him, also in silence. The stone walls were grey and morose this evening and the candlelight was a vigil for the late king. From where he stood, Cor could see the dreary exterior of the castle and its main entrance. An orchard of snake-branched trees and the soggy grey-green of the garden stretched away into the distance.

"Still looking?" Aravis appeared at the top of the stairs.

She tucked her hair behind her ear and walked slowly towards him. On the step above him, she paused and leaned against the windowsill.

"I don't know why he hasn't come back yet," he sighed. "It's been nearly six hours since the funeral. Surely he wouldn't be foolish enough to stay out in rain like this."

"Grief does funny things to people," said Aravis. "I sat in the cellar for hours, when my father died."

"Your father died?" Cor turned to look more closely at her expression. "You never told me your father died. When did this happen?"

"Three years ago," she said quietly, inspecting her nails, instead of looking him in the eye. "I didn't want to feel anything for him, but when I heard the news, I felt empty and cold. I couldn't stop it, so I went and sat in a dark, bitter place and thought about everything that had happened between us."

"You could have come to me," he placed a hand awkwardly on her arm, imagining a sixteen year old Aravis, sitting in a windowless room, crying.

It seemed almost impossible to him. She was always so strong, or maybe she just seemed strong, because when she was weak, she hid it. His heart grew heavier.

"I know that I could have," she sighed. "But I didn't want to. I felt like I had given up everything that I had, everyone that I knew to come here."

"So did I," said Cor.

"I know, but it was a dark time for me, Shasta," she said. "You and Corin were my only friends. I felt isolated, on the outside of some family bond. For a while, I thought I was just a charity case. My whole life seemed to revolve around this castle and you two, my only two friends. I struggled with not having the freedom that I wanted."

"And now?"

"I'm older now," she said, standing up straighter. Cor's hand fell from her arm. "For freedom, I could ask. As for friends, I began to appreciate the value of one good friend compared to many shallow friendships."

"And what about your father?"

Her expression clouded again.

"I sent my respects, with help from the late King. I don't know if my family cared or if they were too angry to pay any attention to my words, but I sent them. That's all that matters," she shook her head. "Anyway, how are you? You spend all this time worrying about your brother and now about me. I worry that you're not looking for help yourself."

"I'm okay," said Cor. His throat tightened, threatening to close up, but he wouldn't burden Aravis with it. He could handle it. Swallowing slightly, he forced himself to keep speaking. "I'm fine."

"Double reassurance," she pursed her lips.

"Honestly Aravis," he said. "I'm sad, of course I'm sad, but I know he's in a better place."

She looked like she wanted to say more, but after a long pause, she turned to the window and peered into the night again.

"Alright," she said. "But I'm here, if you need me."

"I do nee-," he jumped suddenly. "It's Corin. Look, down there, I can see his regalia. Quick, let's make sure that door is open."

He ran down the stairs, Aravis following closely behind. Their footsteps echoed loudly around the walls, the only discernible sound.

"Open the doors, please," said Cor as they walked towards the main entrance.

"Sir," the two men, standing on opposite sides of the entrance, bowed their heads.

Then the great heavy wood creaked and a cold gust of air whipped its way through the ever-widening crack. The sound of rain grew louder and the crown-prince watched as the water splashed against the stone steps and trickled downwards onto the pathway, like a stream. His brother's figure walked slowly towards him, huddling through the cold rain.

"I'll be back in a second," said Cor and before anyone could stop him, he threw the hood of his cloak over his head and rushed into the rain.

The fabric grew darker almost immediately and he quickened his pace. Rain pattered onto his hood, like pebbles on a stone floor, and dripped down the length of his body. The wind blew some of the droplets inside his cloak so that his blonde hair flopped over his eyes. He brushed it out of the way with his hand.

"Corin," he called out as he was only five metres away.

The boy looked up, broken from some kind of trance.

"Cor?"

"Yes," the older boy ran the last few steps and threw his arm and cloak, around his brother. "Come on, let's get you inside."

Corin tried to shrug the arm away, and Cor let it fall from his shoulder to merely a light touch on his back, pressing him forwards towards the castle. They ducked into the archway over the entrance and the rain stopped pattering on their foreheads.

It was then that Cor realised his brother was shaking.

"Blankets," he ordered the nearest guard. "And fresh clothes," then he turned back to Corin, patting him gently. "Come, you should sit down. Let's take you to your bedroom, the servants have already set a fire in the grate."

Their cloaks dripped onto the stone floor, forming an ever-widening puddle around them. Droplets broke the surface every second, like tears on a lake. Aravis stood over by the bottom of the stairs watching them carefully. A pensive expression wove into her slightly creased eyebrows.

Cor smiled at her and rubbed his brother's back, hoping to cheer him up and keep him warm.

"Stop it," the boy pulled away, hands balled into fists. "Stop treating me like I'm a child. We're the same age. I'm sick of everyone acting like you know better and you are the responsible one. And now you will be king and I'll always be the younger one. The brother who walks around doing as you say, never being worthy except that I am your brother."

"What?" said Cor. "Where is this coming from? I thought you didn't want to be king."

"I don't."

Cor threw his hands up.

"Then what are you saying?"

"I don't want to be a hanger-on Cor," hair flopped over the younger boy's brow, down to the bridge of his nose, leaving his eyes in shadows. Darkness, sorrow that came perhaps from his very soul. "You want to grow up so fast and sooner or later you'll decide you want to fall in love and then I'll be the person on the outside."

The crown prince's face deepened in confusion. Why was Corin behaving like this, asking these questions?

"Come now, Corin," said Cor. "You are getting a bit ahead of yourself. These are things reserved for the future. You are still my brother and my best-friend, the most important person in my life."

A shuffle of movement from the edge of the hall caught his eye. Aravis, long black hair trailing down her back, disappeared around the bend in the staircase. A metal hand closed around his heart.

"Am I?" asked Corin, catching the line of his brother's gaze. "Am I?" the older boy did not reply. "When father was still alive, we were equals, but now I'm not sure that's what you want."

"Of course it is," said Cor. "I want nothing else. You have been out in the rain and the cold too long and our father's death has left you in a vulnerable state. You are not thinking clearly."

"Because it's my fault, isn't it Cor?" snapped Corin. "It's never you."

"Corin."

"No," the younger boy, still dripping rain onto the stone, trudged over to the staircase and, following Aravis' exit, he hurried to the higher levels of the castle.

 **Ah the heart-ache. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter :)**


	3. To Mend Ills

**Sorry for the wait everyone, but I've finished my exams now and I think they went well. Thank you yo my reviewers: Guest and Sophia the Scribe for the encouragement. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this :)**

 **To Mend Ills**

Cor spent the night restless and sad. By the morning, his eyelids had grown heavy and purple blotches stained the skin around the bottom of his eyes. He forced himself out of bed and out of his dreamless sleep to climb into his clothes. They felt wrong: too big, too heavy. The keys on his belt jangled discordantly, like ill-rung funeral bells.

Shaking his head, he caught sight of himself in the mirror and remedied his stooped posture. He was the crown-prince. He had to get up, stay strong and make sure everyone else was okay.

The rain had subsided overnight and the morning air brought the smell of dew-adorned grass to his nostrils. Looking out of the window, he could see the muddy mix of lawn below and remembered how Corin had returned.

Cor's heart ached as he remembered his father's funeral and Corin's words had scratched at the tender wounds, but the crown-prince knew he must be tolerant. People reacted to death in different ways. Aravis had kept her grief to herself for three years. Three years. Cor sighed and stared in the mirror again. His face sagged, mouth turned down at the corners. He imagined Aravis, standing before him as she had yesterday. She hadn't even wanted to tell him about her father's death, it had just slipped out. Why hadn't she trusted him with her emotions? And what about Corin? He hoped it wouldn't take three years for his younger twin to let him back in.

Drawn out of his thoughts, he stared into the mirror. In his reflection, he caught himself stooping and straightened up again. Then he pulled open his chamber door and walked the few paces to Corin's room. For a moment, Cor hesitated, then stepped closer to the wood and knocked tentatively.

"Brother," he whispered to the door.

There was no reply. Perhaps his twin hadn't heard him, or else he was asleep. Dawn was often too early for his younger brother. Cor raised his hand again to knock, but paused before it touched the oak. His limb hung uselessly in mid-air. Maybe he should let the boy sleep.

Then again, he couldn't put their row out of his mind and he wouldn't let this animosity grow between them if he could help it. His chest tightened. If he didn't have Corin… No it was too much to contemplate.

Plucking up his resolve, Cor cleared his voice and knocked again.

"Brother," he said more loudly this time.

There was still no reply. The crown prince sighed heavily and let his head fall softly against the wooden door. One more time.

"Brother please," he said. "I don't think you should hide away. Father was so dear to us. He wouldn't want us to be driven apart by his death."

Silence still emanated from the room like death. Cor sighed again. It wasn't like Corin to ignore him; fight him, argue with him: yes. But ignore him? The boy must be sleeping. Cor shook his head to himself and moved towards the stairs, his mind grave.

He descended the steps slowly, lost in thought, but the silence of the upper floors was not reflected below. In the cold morning air, the servants scurried about their chores and the castle functioned as it did on any other day. He walked through the entrance hall, where someone had soaked up the puddle of water from yesterday. The main doors were open and the world beyond was recovering from the heavy rain. There was nothing extraordinary outside, although Cor suspected the rest of world would be coming to pay their respects to his father soon.

The prince took a deep breath and the fresh air cooled his head, then he pulled his eyes away from the outside and walked towards the throne room. Its doors were closed, locked since the day the king had died.

As he approached the wood, he paused and placed a hand against the painted metal supports. Carefully, he moved his hand down to trace the shape of the lock with his fingers. The iron keys weighed heavily on his belt, but somehow, it didn't feel right to go in yet.

"Ah your majesty," it was the chief adviser.

Her robes were full black, except for the golden symbol of Archenland emblazoned on one side. Streaks of grey patterned her mousy hair, pulled back in a tight plait.

"Trel," said Cor, pulling back from the door. "Are you in need of assistance?"

"Your majesty," she bowed low. "You'll forgive my forwardness at such a time of mourning, but you must be aware that with the King Lune, may Aslan watch over him, dead, the question of succession must be answered swiftly and with certainty."

His father was barely cold in his grave and already the world required a new King. Cor shook his head and rubbed his eyes with his palms.

"Your majesty? Are you ill?"

"No, indeed," said the prince. "I am well. Yes. And of course I understand the necessity of action, but it is too soon. I need more time Trel. Just another day or two."

"Of course," nodded the adviser. "But does his majesty give permission for preparations to go ahead now, without bothering you for the time being."

"If it's necessary," shrugged Cor.

Silence extended between them. As Cor traced the lines in the advisers face with his eyes, he notice that her wrinkles were more pronounced than they had been and the bags under her eyes were more sunken.

"Was your majesty intending to re-open the throne room?" asked Trel.

"Er," Cor looked up the full length of the tall door, then stepped back again. "No, I was just thinking about my father. I don't think I have the energy to open the chamber yet."

"Of course, that is understandable" said Trel, her eyes creasing with empathy. She flicked a grey hair out of her eyes. "If your majesty is sure he is okay, I will begin preparations."

Cor nodded and she retreated down the hallway and out of sight. She had served his father for many years and her counsel had been unwavering. Now that he would be king, he would have to consider who to appoint as his own advisers. Corin and Aravis immediately sprung to mind.

He decided it must be late enough for Corin to have surfaced by now. The crown prince cast a final glance at the great doors, then shook his head and walked back down the corridor. Eventually, he would have to let himself move on, let himself take up the mantle of the kingdom, but he wasn't ready to replace his father yet and part of him felt like an unlawful usurper. He needed Corin with him, before he could feel as though he deserved to be King.

When Cor reached his brother's room, he knocked again.

"Corin," he called out. "Are you awake?"

There was no reply. Cor tried the door handle this time, but it was securely locked. He groaned and banged his head against the door. The noise echoed around his skull and he put a hand up to his temple.

"Trying to knock yourself out?" Aravis peered out of her room, probably investigating the sound.

He had forgotten her room was just across the corridor.

"Have you seen Corin?" asked Cor, determined not to answer her question. Knocking himself and not having to deal with everything was a more and more tempting possibility.

"No, why?" she stepped out her room properly and came over to him. Her hair bounced on her shoulders and down her back. She was wearing trousers again.

"He's not answering his door and I haven't seen him at all today."

"Maybe he doesn't want to be seen," shrugged Aravis.

Cor's head snapped up and their eyes met. Pale blue against brown. Aravis smiled in what seemed to be intended as a comforting way. The prince had to look away, unable to return the smile.

"He's my brother," said Cor. "Why wouldn't he want me to see him?"

"Cor, I know you're not the sharpest tool in the box," she nudged him in a joking manner, but her attempt at humour fell flat. She cleared her throat awkwardly. "You must understand," she frowned slightly.

"I just," he put his hands up as though surrendering. "I just don't understand what he was trying to say," his eyes strayed to her face, but he shifted them to the floor again almost immediately.

Part of him wanted to fall into her arms and cry about everything that had happened. Her face was so warm and friendly and beautiful.

' _Sooner or later you'll decide to fall in love, and I'll be the person on the outside_ ', Corin's voice echoed in his mind.

Cor took a step back from the girl without realising it. Her brows knit together and she stepped towards him. His heart beat faster. Somehow, her fingers found the slight piece of flesh that was exposed at the base of his neck. Goosebumps rose all along his skin and he pulled away. Her hand dangled limply in the air.

"I…" he stammered. "I'm going out."

He took her hand and gently pushed it back towards her. The skin on the back of his neck burnt and he could feel her eyes, trying to find his, but he kept his gaze on the floor. Then he let go of her hand and it fell to her side.

"I'll see you later," he said.

Before she could offer to come with him, he turned and walked back towards the staircase. At the top step, he couldn't help one final glance back. Aravis' face had fallen.

 **Well, I might not be updating for a while, because I have a lot of work to do, but I'll put it on my profile when I expect to be publishing the next chapter. Thanks for reading and don't forget to review :)**


	4. Grave Offerings

**Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading this and particularly to my reviewers. I didn't expect such a positive response. Glenstorm63: I have fixed most of the errors you pointed out now, I hope. Thanks to Niko Bzozzos, Le Faucon Bleu, Eos-fiordineve and TellYouAllAboutIt and, as always to Sophia the Scribe for your encouragement.**

 **Grave Offerings**

Cor hoisted himself onto his horse, despite the page eagerly trying to give him a hand. A cold wind from the north blew back his cloak and ruffled his hair as he settled himself. On another day, it might have been enough to convince him to stay inside, but he needed to get away from the castle, distract himself from all the difficulties that lay inside its walls.

"If anyone asks," he told the page. "Tell them I've gone out riding."

"Milord," bowed the boy and stepped back from the horse.

Cor urged the horse into a trot and its hooves began to squelch through the damp mud. Kione was a white mare, but she was not one of the horses that had been blessed with speech. Nonetheless, she was warm and friendly and didn't ask much of him, except the odd apple. They picked up the pace to a canter and soon the castle was behind them and they were out amongst the fruit trees of the orchard.

Cor's muscles loosened and his spirits lifted. Riding always had a calming effect on him. Maybe because he associated it with the first real freedom he'd ever had. An image of Aravis, racing alongside him, popped into his mind and he shook his head to clear it. Now was not the time to be getting nostalgic. The whole point of leaving the castle had been to have some time to himself and yet the calormene girl had popped into his head unwanted. He sighed. Was it unwanted? There was something so comforting about her.

Then he thought of Corin and his face drew taught.

He looked up; through the tree branches, a few clouds half covered the ice blue sky. He didn't want to deal with all these conflicting emotions right now, because he didn't have any answers. What he wanted was clarity, but what he got was the feeling of being lost in the suburbs of Tashban. It was too much to handle on his own, but he couldn't go to Corin, because the boy had shut him out and he couldn't go to Aravis, because Corin would be annoyed with him. There was only one person he could seek guidance from, even though his father couldn't respond.

"Come on Kione," he said, slowing the horse to a trot and gently pulling the reins so that they veered off to the left.

The meadow, where his father was buried, spread out in front of them before ten minutes was up and Cor drew his horse to a stop a few metres from the mound of earth and slipped off her back.

"Have yourself some grass," he patted her flank and walked towards the mound. At the base was a stone plaque that had been fitted after the funeral had finished.

 _Here lies King Lune, a guiding light in the darkness_ , it read.

Tears welled in Cor's eyes and he raised one hand to his mouth and the other to his heart. The darkness was indeed great at the moment.

"Father," he managed, though his voice was more high-pitched than usual. "I'm lost. I've lost you and I feel like I'm losing Corin and if I don't be careful I'll lose Aravis as well. But I am at an impasse. I cannot move, for fear that someone will be lost to me forever."

There was no reply. Cor let the tears flow down his cheeks and sunk to his knees in the waterlogged mud, not caring that his clothes would be ruined.

"I wish you were still here, father," he whispered, stroking the mound of earth as though it were a dear friend. "Everything was so much simpler, everything was in balance. Now it is upset and I do not know what cost will be paid when it sets itself right."

Sobs, shook his shoulders and he rubbed his eyes.

"Why did you have to die?" he asked the mound, but it gave no answer, so he turned to the sky, knowing Aslan must be watching from somewhere. "Why did he have to die?"

And still there was no response. Cor tore at his hair and punched the ground. Mud splattered up his arm and his hand ached, but it didn't make the pain inside go away and it didn't offer any consolation. His sobs overwhelmed him again and he sat in the mud, whilst the sun slowly crept into the other side of the sky.

After a few minutes or maybe hours, he became aware of a nuzzling at his shoulder. He looked up, limbs shivering.

"Kione," his throat was dry, but the tears had stopped some time ago and dried, making his face sticky and stiff. He put a hand to his brow, drawn out of his misery. "How long have I been sitting here?"

The mare couldn't enlighten him. She was more interested in sniffing the commemorative plaque.

"Hey," said Cor. "What are you doing?"

He climbed to his feet to pull her away. As her head moved, she gave him a disappointed whinny, but his eyes were drawn to what she had been interested in. At the end of the plaque's inscription, somebody had left a gathering of daisies.

The flowers were still vibrant and their stems mostly green, suggesting they must have been picked recently. Someone else had already visited his father's grave today. His heart ached, but he didn't know why it bothered him. He wasn't the only one who missed his father. It was wrong to be jealous.

Still wondering who it might have been, Cor leant down and touched the plants, but the moment his skin brushed the petals, the world spun. Before he could gather his bearings, the colours had melded into a mess of paint.

 _When they reformed, he wasn't in the meadow, but on a mountain. Snow and rock extended on all sides and the ground beneath his feet sloped sharply upwards. This was not a well-trodden mountain path._

 _All at once, his senses returned to him. Frost bit at his extremities and froze the tears on his face. In the distance, a loud growl seemed to shake the earth._

The image dissolved back into the meadow and Cor stumbled back, letting the daisies fall from his hand. When the dizziness evaporated, he looked from his hand to the flowers and back again many times. Had he just seen a vision? Of what? He sighed and turned to Kione.

"I suppose Aslan moves in mysterious ways," he said wistfully. "But what was he trying to tell me?"

A mountain? Maybe it was some kind of warning, a hint of the future. His insides churned. That growl, it was unlike anything he'd ever heard before. Wild and feral. It could only spell trouble. The vision hadn't been clear enough for him to guess what kind of animal had made that noise, though.

Kione nuzzled his shoulder again.

"You're right," said Cor, dragging his eyes away from his father's mound. "It's getting late. People will begin to worry. Let's get back."

He pulled himself up and they rode into the trees, back towards the castle. The vision had set his nerves on edge. It couldn't have been him in it, because he had no reason to be climbing mountains, but as he tried to think who else it could be, his stomach began to twist into knots.

He wasn't the impulsive type to run off into the mountains, but Aravis and Corin. Who could say? If Aslan had showed him that vision, it had been for a reason. He urged his horse on. Faster, he needed to get to the castle. He needed to speak to the two people he held dearest. Corin's silence from the morning slithered into his thoughts, like a deadly serpent. It might just be nothing.

Surely even Corin wouldn't be so stupid as to go climbing in the mountains. Winter was barely over down here. The north would still be in the full grip of snow and ice.

He was jumpy, when he finally stepped down from Kione.

"Your majesty," said the page boy, from earlier, hurrying over to him and bowing low. "You clothes."

"Oh," said Cor.

He'd completely forgotten about the mud, but that was the least of his problems. He had to ensure that his brother was safe. The image of the mountain was messing with his head. Then another thought struck him.

"Has my brother been down to the stables today?" he asked to the page.

The boy frowned, as though he were trying his best to remember, then shook his blonde head; he couldn't have been more than twelve.

"No milord," he said.

Cor nodded, but the uneasiness in his heart did not alleviate. Corin had gone walking around for hours just yesterday. A horse was not necessary.

"Alright, thank you," said the crown prince. "And er, go and have the rest of the day off. You look a bit young to be working a full shift."

"Milord," the page ducked his head again, then took Kione by the reins and led her off to the stables.

Cor pulled off his riding gloves and almost ran into the castle and up the staircase. He couldn't keep his fears under control. His heart beat faster than normal and his fingers bounced nervously against his legs. When he reached the door to his brother's room, he rapped on the wood. The sound echoed all around the hallway.

"Corin," he called. "Open up."

And yet, there was no reply.

 **I'd love to hear your guesses about the vision :) Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed it and until next time :) I'll probably be updating again at the beginning of April.**


	5. The Other Half of the Soul

**Sorry for the delay, everyone: exams etc. I'm sort of focusing on my original writing at the moment, so updates will probably be about once every two months or so. Anyway, hope you enjoy this.**

 **The Other Half of the Soul**

"What is going on?" Aravis rushed out of her room and Cor mentally checked her off his list. She was safe, not in the mountains.

"Have you seen my brother today?" he asked. "Since we last spoke."

"No, why?" her eyebrows knitted together and her gaze travelled the length of his muddy clothes. "Shasta, you look awful. What's happened?"

He ignored her and banged his knuckles against the door again.

"Corin, I swear," he said. "If you do not come out right now, I will have this door forced open."

The door remained firmly shut. Cor smashed his shoulder into it, as though it could work as a battering ram, but the sharp pain that stabbed through his muscles as his body collided with the door said otherwise.

"Whoa, hey," Aravis grabbed his elbow. "What are you playing at Shasta?"

He looked up at her, eyes frantic. Then they widened.

"I have the keys," he said, slapping a hand to his forehead.

Of course he did: he was the highest ranking person in the castle, now that his father was gone. He bit back his emotions and pulled the chain off his belt. Selecting each key methodically, he tried them in the lock. The fifth one was good and the metal clicked open. There wasn't a single protest from inside as he pushed the door back.

Cor registered a few things as the door to his brother's room creaked open. The first was the tidiness: it looked like someone had meticulously put everything in its place. Even the painting by the window had been set straight. His stomach began to churn – something was amiss.

He moved around the door to get a look at the bed and the worst possible sight greeted him. A carefully made set of sheets and no Corin. Cor's knees gave out under him and he stumbled towards the bed. Aravis caught him, propping him up so he didn't smash his face into the floor.

He tried to wave her away and moved towards the bed, letting himself slump onto the mattress. As he sat, a crinkling sound, like paper being bent out of shape, reached his ears. There was a piece of parchment sticking out from under him.

"What's that?" asked Aravis.

"I don't know," said Cor, as he picked up the paper and settled down once more.

He unfolded it, text in black ink. Even, without reading it, Cor recognised the messy scrawls from his tutoring. This was his brother's hand, but Corin was no great writer. He had never kept journals the way Cor had and had even mocked him on occasion when he found them. The crown prince's eyes strayed to Aravis, then back to the paper.

 _Dear Cor,_ read the first line.

"Shasta," Aravis interrupted his reading, her voice sounding on edge, as though she could sense his own unease. "What's going on?"

"It's a letter," said Cor, but instead of answering her questions further, he read the text.

 _I have gone travelling. I want to find myself again and I don't think I can do that here, because I no longer feel like I fit. At first, I had intended to ask your permission, but I know you wouldn't have allowed me to leave, so I have written you this and hope it finds you before you become too worried._

 _Yours,_

 _Corin_

Cor turned the paper over, hoping for more, but that was it. Just a few lines. To the point. Aravis flopped down on the bed next to him, trying to read over his shoulder.

"What is it?" she asked and he handed the letter to her.

"Here," he said, unable to look her in the eyes.

Her eyes scanned the lines a few times, but she remained silent. Cor couldn't bring himself to look at her, instead scrutinising the folds in his brother's bedcovers as though they could offer him condolence.

Aravis placed a warm hand on his shoulder and began to stroke his back and he almost leant back onto her shoulder, but stopped himself. Corin had left, because he couldn't find a place for himself in the castle, because he thought he had been usurped in his brother's heart.

Ashamed of his thoughts and desires, Cor shrugged Aravis' hand away, but couldn't face her when he did, for fear that her expression might puncture his heart further.

"What do I do?" he asked, at last.

"I don't know," said Aravis. She rested her hand in her lap, as though the words in the letter themselves were heavy.

"I can't just let him leave like this," said Cor.

"He's already gone," she said.

Cor shook his head, his blonde hair ruffling slightly.

"No," he said, getting to his feet. "No, I won't let him leave like this. I have to find him."

"How?" said Aravis, also getting to her feet so that she faced him.

"I'll…" Cor floundered, glancing around at the spotless room as though it could help him. "A search party. I'll order a search party."

He nodded vigourously to himself and hurried out of the door. To his surprise, Aravis chased after him as he took the stairs two at a time.

"Shasta," she said, slightly out of breath. "You're not thinking straight. Do you think he wants you to send a search party out after him?"

"Of course, he would," said Cor. "He just wants to see that I care about him."

"Then why did he leave in the middle of the night?" asked Aravis.

Cor skidded to a halt at the bottom of the stairs, and she nearly crashed into him.

"He wants me to love him," said Cor, spinning around, muscles tensing, preparing for an argument.

"Then let him have his freedom," said Aravis. "It's clearly what he wants. If he wants to go off into the world and travel a bit, I see no harm in it."

"Aravis," he said, as calmly as he could manage. "I am ordering a search party."

"No," she said, gripping his arm so tightly that her nails dug into his flesh, even through the fabric of his tunic. "Don't be so block-headed, Shasta."

Cor's cheeks flushed and he pulled his arm away, almost toppling Aravis. She caught herself, a warning flashing in her eyes.

"It's your fault," he said.

"Excuse me?" her voice louder and more high-pitched than usual.

"It's your fault he ran away," said Cor, blood simmering. "He thinks there's no place for him with me, because of you."

"Because of me?" she pointed to her chest, eyebrows cinching together. "How dare you? Need I remind you, Cor, that I knew you first. I haven't usurped anyone. Don't try to blame me for your brother's behaviour, hell for your own behaviour."

She spun on her heels and marched back up the stairs, avoiding his hand, when he tried to catch her arm. A pit opened in his chest, a cruel emptiness that sucked away the anger shielding his heart.

"Aravis."

He moved up onto the first step, not sure what to do. Before he could decide, Aravis had reached the first floor and spun back to face him.

"What?" she said.

"I…"

But his mouth was as dry as the desert north of Calormen and the words wouldn't come. His emotions all tried to get out at once and they got stuck. Anger, frustration, sadness, desperation. He gulped.

"You know," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "I'm beginning to think Corin had the right idea."

Cor winced, but she didn't see. She turned around and retreated down the first-floor corridor, curly hair bouncing furiously to the quick pace of her dainty footsteps, until she disappeared completely from sight.

Cor just stared after her – he didn't have the heart to try to catch up to her. He stood on the staircase, heart contracting, body numb. What the hell was he doing? Corin had run away and now he'd be lucky if Aravis spoke to him for another fortnight. The pit in his chest grew larger, and his eyes stung.

Even though he didn't want to think about them, Aravis' words swirled in his mind – that maybe he should just let Corin go travelling. Cor clenched his fist. How could his brother desert him like this, when Cor most needed him?

Maybe Aravis was right. If Corin wanted to be selfish and abandon them, at a politically precarious time, then so be it. Snowy mountains flashed into his mind and although he shook his head, he knew he couldn't ignore it. He needed to send out a search party. No matter how annoyed he was at his brother, he didn't know what kind of danger Corin was heading for.

Cor rushed down the steps and out of the front door. He would have turned straight towards the stables, but a horse came into view on the path leading to the castle. The man wore a long robe, in the colours of Archenland, even though his attire suggested a Calormene.

It took Cor a few moments to place the round face and red cheeks. Archenland's Calormene ambassador, but he wasn't expected to return from Tashbaan so soon, particularly not at an important time like this, when Archenland needed to cement its friendships again.

 **This was a really tough chapter to write, so please let me know if you see any room for improvement. I don't know if I'm entirely happy with it, but I've kept you all waiting for so long, so I thought I ought to post it.**


	6. The Lone Walker

**Quite a long chapter this time, but I hope you all enjoy it. Sorry, it took so long. I've been a bit of a perfectionist for this story, not sure why. Maybe because I've been shipping Cor and Aravis for so long and I want to do it justice. Anyway, we're taking a break from the palace for this one.**

 **The Lone Walker**

The ground was wet and the mud squelched under his boots as he made his way along the edge of the path, keeping to the first row of trees, in case anyone from the palace passed on the road. He wore his cloak hood low over his eyes, completely eclipsing his pale blonde hair and his clothes were those of a footman, certainly not those belonging to a prince.

Corin had been walking for the better part of nine hours now. After he'd had that argument with Cor, he'd decided that was it – he needed to make his own way in the world, figure out who in Aslan's name he was and what he wanted to be doing for the rest of his life.

He'd left in the dead of night, moon on his back, and now the sun was beginning to crest over the hills behind him. In the pale light of the morning, he picked out the nearest village, a collection of thatched roofs and grey-brick walls. It was maybe another fifteen minutes' walk.

His leg muscles twanged at the thought and the pain in his feet that he had been ignoring for the last hour or so, surfaced with a vengeance. He grimaced, but pressed on, beginning to regret his decision not to borrow a horse from the stables.

No matter, he'd pick one up in the next village and be properly on his way…

He paused and glanced around him at the empty road and the woods which chorused with the calls of waking birds. On his way to where? He really had no idea. He just knew he didn't want to be in the palace, he wanted to be out here, in the country.

He supposed he could just wander about aimlessly, but that seemed pointless. He looked around himself again, this time noting the spiky structures jutting into the sky in the North. Beyond them lay the land of Narnia. He'd always been fond of the place and in terms of a choice of location, there were certainly worst places to spend one's time.

Nodding to himself, he trudged onwards. Once he got to the village, he would buy himself a horse and head North, at least to Narnia, if not beyond.

-O-

When Corin pushed open the door to the inn and the heat of a warm fire washed over him, his legs almost decided to give out there and then, but somehow he managed to drag himself over to an empty table at the side of the room, near the fire. He pulled out the slightly wobbly wooden chair and sat down. This was the kind of place they used to stay in sometimes, when his father had been alive and they needed to stop off on their journeys about the realm.

A stone lodged itself in his throat and his eyes stung, like someone had raked thorns across them. He stared down at the grooves in the wood grain surface of the table.

"Good morning sir."

Corin jumped, then looked up. At first he just saw the rest of the room, a few people sitting in groups, one person, dressed in a cloak and trying to look as inconspicuous as he did, before his eyes settled on the pot-bellied man next to him.

"Morn –" but the prince's voice came out strangled. He cleared his throat and patted his chest. "Morning," he said. "Bit of a cold."

The innkeeper nodded.

"And what can I get you, good sir?" he asked. He wore a faded cream apron that had probably been white when it was first made.

"The house's most popular dish," said Corin, careful not to raise his head too much, so that the man could not see more than shadows under the prince's hood.

"Very good," said the innkeeper. "A drink."

"Just water," said Corin.

As the man nodded to himself and headed back towards the kitchen, Corin shook his head to himself. Just a glass of water… What was he coming to? Only a few weeks ago, he had drunk himself silly – he always drunk himself silly whenever there was feasting and not too many foreign dignitaries about, who might be offended by his jokes. And he'd always enjoyed himself, even when Cor had rolled his eyes and Aravis had laughed at his antics, much to the crown prince's chagrin. Though somehow, the thought of alcohol, so mixed in his mind as it was with merriment made his stomach turn.

He could find no joy in it, not when his father was no longer there to tut at him and help him up to his room as he slurred his words. His father had always been so understanding of his twins' differences and he had never taken sides.

A tear slipped down Corin's cheek and he wiped it away. He'd cry when he was by himself again, once he'd left the inn.

The innkeeper returned with his food and drink and Corin's stomach growled like the lion himself.

"Thank you," said Cor, stuffing his fingers into the purse on his belt and pulling out a gold coin.

The innkeeper took it and returned a fair amount in silvers and bronzes. After that, he retreated and Corin ate his meal in silence; meals at the palace had always been lively. It took him about ten minutes to clear his plate and he downed his tankard of water in one, before getting to his feet.

The solitary figure in the corner was still sitting there, like a statue, no plate before them, just an empty tankard. Corin made his way to the bar counter, where the innkeeper was busying himself wiping down the crockery.

"Excuse me," said Corin, leaning an elbow against the countertop.

The man spun round, his black hair falling slightly out of place.

"Ah," he said. "What can I do for you now, good sir? A room perhaps?"

"No," said the prince. "I wonder if you might be able to sell me a horse."

"A horse?" the innkeeper's eyebrows climbed towards the ceiling.

"Yes," said Corin. "I must travel a great distance, but I find myself without a steed to carry me."

The man rubbed his fingers against his chin, which was covered in dark stubble.

"Well now," he said. "I don't have any horses myself, but I can send to someone who does. Go to Farmer Jord. He lives just north of here. He'll certainly have some horses. Whether you'll be able to convince him to part with them is a matter or coin, if you catch my drift."

Corin nodded.

"Thank you for your help."

-O-

The farm was an easy place to find. It was straight off the main road, on the other side of the village and outside, there was a great big wooden sign, stencilled with white lettering read ' _Jord's Farm'_. The walk had been quick enough and his feet weren't protesting as much as he thought they would.

He turned into the gate and made his way up to the grey-brick farmhouse, with its wooden shutters and ivy growing up one side. He just hoped Jord wasn't out in the fields around the house, which stretched away for some distance, grassland dotted with the white fleeces of sheep.

A whinny drew Corin's attention back to the house, but the sound was coming from a building a few metres away that was detached from the homestead itself. Well, there were definitely horses here. He only hoped that Jord didn't drive too hard a bargain. The prince had taken a fair amount of money with him, but that was supposed to last him for most of his journey so he didn't really want to have to pay through the nose for a horse.

"Should've taken Blackfoot," he muttered to himself.

Not taking a horse had seemed like a good idea at the time, he reminded himself, but it wasn't looking so great now.

Corin walked up to the farmhouse's front door and knocked firmly on the wood.

"Coming, coming," came a man's voice from inside and a moment later, the door swung back and a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and tanned skin stood there. "Yes," he said, eyeing Corin. "Can I help ye, sir?"

"I was sent here by the innkeeper in the village," said the prince. "He said you may have a horse you'd be willing to sell me."

"Ay," said the man. "You've come to the right place, sir. What kind of horse is it that you're looking for?"

"A sturdy one," said Corin. "One that can go long distances."

"Well," said the farmer. "I think I've got just the one for you, if you'll just follow me."

He stepped out of the doorway and pulled the door shut, locking it behind him, before gesturing towards the stable building. The track was mostly just mud, with a few stones trodden in to make it firmer.

"Right now," said the farmer. "If you'll just wait here."

Corin stood outside the stables, whilst Jord went inside. Tapping his foot, the prince glanced around at the fields again. A shadow moved, somewhere in his peripheral vision and he spun round, scanning the yard, the chickens clucking away behind the house and the ivy leaves that rustled in the wind.

A bird cawed on the roof and Corin shook his head too himself – he was getting jittery. He didn't want to be hanging around here for too long. Even though he'd left the note, making his intentions clear, somehow he suspected that might not be enough for his brother.

The farmer returned a moment later, with a majestic creature. A female horse with a piebald coat. She had dark stockings on two of her legs and was about the same height as Corin's mare Blackfoot.

"This," said Jord, scratching the mare under her chin. "Is Patches. She's a good horse, very loyal and she's sturdier than most. She could make the trip to the Narnia border in just less than a day."

"Just less than a day," Corin whistled. "If what you say is true, I'd be happy to buy her from you."

They bartered for ten gold coins, five, eight, back to five and settled eventually on seven, with the saddle and reins thrown in, and a sugar cube. Not cheap, not too expensive for a horse either and Corin still had a fair amount leftover for other matters.

"I'll lead her to the gate for you," said the farmer, smiling brightly as Corin detached his purse from his belt and found seven gold coins. "Pleasure doing business with you."

Corin inclined his head. They walked to the gate and he handed the coins to the man. After counting them, Jord handed the prince his new horse's reins, still grinning. He also gave him the sugar cube.

"Thank you," said Corin.

"No problem," said the farmer. "Have a good day now, sir."

Jord turned back towards his farmhouse, unlocked the door and disappeared into the shady interior. Corin checked the saddle fastenings on Patches, then held his hand out for the horse to sniff, before stroking her cheek. The fur was short and slightly bristly, but smooth and soft when stroked in the right direction.

"Hello Patches," he said. "I'm Corin." The horse whinnied and Corin's mouth twitched into a smile, but it didn't raise his spirits. "Here," he held out the sugar cube. "You have this."

The horse took it almost immediately and chewed on it with her big flat teeth.

"We're going to be just fine," said Corin, more to himself than Patches. "And it's Narnia for us now."

A stone skittered behind him, but before he could turn around, something solid and sharp pressed against his back.

"You're purse or your life, stranger," said a gruff voice.

 **Let me know what you think in a review :)**


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